


Bird Cherries

by Sorsa



Series: Bird Cherries AU [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Action/Adventure, Altair is chieftain, Altair would burn the world for Malik, Alternate Universe - Historical, Blood, Dismemberment, Drama, M/M, Malik is a witch, Malik wants his trees back, Porn, Violence, ridiculously accurate iron age description
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-18 06:13:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8151874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorsa/pseuds/Sorsa
Summary: Altaïr is a chieftain and Malik is the village witch. They return from the winter spent in the north to their village to find its people enthralled by the Veiled Lord who claims to know the truth. Spirits are angry and so are they.Later on Altair wages war against the people living in the west but he may have to reconsider his stance on important matters in life after what happens in a far away place inhabited by altogether different kinds of people.





	1. The Veiled Lord

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I have humoured myself with from time to time but never actually put anything down on the paper. This is basically my love letter to ancient cultures from the pre-Christian era and especially for a folk legend that still circulates in where I live.
> 
> There will be three chapters to this story which I will post within an interval of a week.
> 
> I do sincerely hope you will enjoy reading this story and I thank all my supporters! Reading the lovely comments people leave on my fics encourage me to keep on doing this.
> 
> Beta-read by DarthTofu to whom I apoligise that I just can't get my gods and Gods straight :D

The lake was a vast one and had dozens of islands of varying size. It was both a blessing and a curse to a traveller who wanted to get to the other side of it. With a boat it was easy to make the trip in two days but without one it took a week to get around it. And during the winter it was easy to just ski over the ice.

 

Altaïr and Malik along with a few other men from their village had spent the winter up in the north hunting for pelts. It was customary to leave right after the harvest but before the lake froze over and return right after the ice had melted. They had returned dutifully to the place where they had left their dugouts with a satisfactory amount of things to bring back home.

 

But the ice had not yet melted so they couldn’t make it across the lake. It wouldn’t take long for the lake to clear out but for now the sheets of ice were toppling over each other making it even dangerous to attempt to navigate through the ice with a dugout.

 

So they waited out for a week before setting off. The air was still cool but the sun did already warm enough so they could wear lighter clothes and none of them hesitated to throw off the heavy fur cloaks they had been wearing all winter.

 

Altaïr sat in the back of the boat steering it to the right direction. Malik sat in the front scouting ahead for the familiar landmarks occasionally directing Altaïr’s course and in between them around the small mast was the small mound of furs and Malik’s annoying red dog.

 

The boat glided along the surface of the glimmering water The dugout smelled faintly of tar and a breeze blowing behind them hurried them towards their home.

 

This year Malik had been anxious to get back home telling him there were bad signs everywhere. Altaïr had not noticed anything out of ordinary except that the foxes were abundant this year and they managed to catch several white and black ones which would fetch them a good price.

 

But Malik was a witch and only a fool would not listen to one when they told something was out of place. Altaïr was the chieftain with a lot of influence over his people but he couldn’t control the spirits; for that he had Malik.

 

Not every village and tribe had a witch since they needed to be trained by another witch to do things Altaïr didn’t even fully comprehend. But he had been clever and stolen Malik from the other side of the bay that separated their villages, though is it stealing when the one being stolen is a willing participant?

 

As the evening was creeping on them they pulled into a small island for the night. The island was in the middle of the lake and seen countless travellers on its shores. Birches grew thickly everywhere making the small island look considerably bigger than it was from afar.

 

Malik’s dog jumped on land eager to stretch his legs while they tied the dugouts to trees growing right in the waterline. All of them made their way further into the island where a large flat stone lay. They needed to give their thanks to the island for letting them stay for the night.

 

They left some food on the stone and Malik poured water on top of everything – the island had to drink after all. Then they headed back towards the shore where they knew were shelters built there already countless generations ago.

 

Altaïr pulled Malik close to himself as they basked in the warmth of the fire. He could feel how tense Malik was but he didn’t comment on it, choosing instead just to rub soothing circles on his back in the hopes of it relaxing him enough to get sleep.

 

The dog curled up against them and as much as Altaïr tried to fight it he fell asleep before Malik did.

 

*******************

 

As the Sun had risen far enough for them to see they set off. They were all in a hurry to get back home since they had spent the entire year in the north but Malik was still particularly antsy.

 

They didn’t exchange many words but years upon years of knowing each other allowed Altaïr to know the signs. Malik’s shoulders were stiff and his gaze was nailed somewhere far, and even the dog didn’t dare to break his concentration.

 

Suddenly Malik stood up in the boat and shaded his eyes with his hand against the sun which shone right in front of them. The boat rocked slightly from the sudden movement.

 

“Sit back down or you’ll fall off,” Altaïr said as he didn’t want to fish Malik out of the lake. The water while ice free was still cold enough to kill a man if they didn’t dry and warm themselves up quickly enough.

 

Malik didn’t heed his advice and instead just leaned against the keel.

 

“They are gone,” Malik gasped.

 

Altaïr raised his eyebrow.

 

“What are gone?” he asked since he couldn’t see from his place at the back.

 

“The bird cherries!” Malik snapped at him and the words made Altaïr bounce up dangerously, rocking the dugout even more.

 

He hurried to the keel himself and leaned over Malik to see himself. Malik pointed at a certain point in the shore and sure enough the bird cherries were gone.

 

“What on Earth?” Altaïr questioned.

 

Normally in a few weeks the bird cherries would have been in full bloom and a sweet odour of their flowers would have filled the air. In the thicket was the burial ground of all their ancestors. The bird cherries were sacred and somebody had committed a sacrilege against them.

 

The bird cherry thicket was the connection between this world and the next. Where could the dead now be buried and how could the living bring them food and drink if the bird cherries were gone?

 

Altaïr lay his hand on Malik’s shoulder for a while before retreating back to his place at the back. The dog looked worriedly between the two of them.

 

“I knew I shouldn’t have followed you to the north. I shouldn’t have left the village,” Malik accused Altaïr while turning around to face him.

 

“Abbas was left behind and many others. I will punish the people responsible for this,” he retorted but his answer didn’t satisfy Malik.

 

“It won’t bring back the trees,” Malik snapped back.

 

“I will bring their bodies to the thicket and let them bleed until the bird cherries grow back. The spirits can’t ignore that!” he argued.

 

He could see Malik had not really calmed down at all but was simply just sulking. A silence stretched between them two and in some unspoken agreement they checked their weapons. There was really no knowing what awaited them at the shore because destroying the bird cherries, and only the bird cherries as everything else seemed to be like normal, was clearly an intentionally malicious act.

 

Nobody from their people would have done it. Nobody in their right minds at least and even then the rest of the people would have stopped them.

 

They did get a lot of travellers and merchants in their village since it was right in the middle of crossroads of sorts. To the north was the lake and to the south was a large swamp which forced anyone travelling through their village if they wanted to get anywhere. But the merchants while sometimes even very foreign were only interested in selling their wares instead of laying their hands on their things.

 

They pulled ashore at the bay which Altaïr had swam across as a child to the village Malik used to live. It was a small way from the bird cherry thicket. Unusually few people came to greet them at the boat-shore amongst them Altaïr’s two sons.

 

They tied the boats securely and stepped on the firm ground of their home village. The dog darted off somewhere barking furiously on its way.

 

“Where’s your mother?” Altaïr asked from his sons who looked excited to see him.

 

“In the long house with the Veiled Lord,” Sef answered and Darim elbowed him on the side.

 

“You are supposed to call it the temple,” Darim corrected his little brother.

 

“What temple? What Veiled Lord?” Altaïr questioned impatiently.

 

Malik appeared next to Altaïr.

 

“I need to go and check on the burial ground,” Malik said and set off towards the bird cherry thicket.

 

“I’m at the long house. So come there as soon you can,” he said which Malik just waved off.

 

His sons didn’t have answers for him so and neither seemed anyone else who had gathered at the boat-shore. So he set off climbing the small incline towards the village proper.

 

He was joined by Rauf who had also managed to secure his boat and who appeared just as baffled by the lack of his wife as Altaïr. Rauf carried his spear and Altaïr rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. There was obviously something evil on the loose in the village.

 

As they made it to the village everything seemed surprisingly normal at first glance. That was until he realised people were singing in the long house and he couldn’t make out the tune.

 

Few sheep wandered between the houses. He would have expected there to be a welcome meal waiting for him and his men to return to but there was no smoke coming out of the long house’s smokestack. In fact almost none of the houses had a fire going which was odd

 

As he approached the long house the singing stopped and was replaced by powerful voice which spoke foreign words. He had never heard the language.

 

Altaïr glanced at Rauf who shrugged.

 

He threw open the door to his house and was greeted by a the entirety of village gathered in front of a man who was probably the “Veiled Lord” and he could now see where the nickname had come from. The man was wearing so much cloth only his face showed. It was bright coloured cloth and there at the back end behind the Veiled Lord somebody had hung a carving of what could be only described as crude depiction of the sun and moon painted in garish ocher.

 

The Veiled Lord stopped his preaching and turned to look at him. Altaïr stared back as intimidatingly as he could with the hope that the man would catch his intention.

 

The rest of the people turned slowly to look at him as well as soon as they realised the Veiled Lord was having a staring contest with Altaïr. Altaïr could make out his wife among the people gathered in the long house.

 

“What is the meaning of this?!” Altaïr questioned to no one in particular but didn’t release his eyes from the Veiled Lord.

 

His wife stood up from the ground where she had been sitting with the other people. She made his way towards him.

 

“I’ve been reborn as Maria. Lord Robert has shown us the new way and told us of the great Vapahtaja who does great things for his people,” Altaïr’s wife babbled in what seemed like delusional ramble to him.

 

“What are you onto? That’s not your name and what is this Vapahtaja supposed to be? Make sense woman,” he argued impatiently.

 

“You shall not call me by my pagan name any longer. Vapahtaja is the one and only true God. At first it was hard to believe but what Robert has told us makes so much sense,” his wife went on.

 

He shot his eyes back at the Veiled Lord. The man looked at him with a clear defiance in his stature.

 

“So you destroyed the burial ground?” he asked even though he was already certain of the answer.

 

Another man he had never seen before stood up from the floor. The man spoke to the Veiled Lord in a foreign tongue he had heard a few times before and the Veiled Lord spoke up clearly addressing Altaïr in his speech.

 

“You are interrupting our holy service. Please join us,” the strange man translated.

 

Altaïr glared murderously back at them. Then he spat and on the ground and marched out with a very confused Rauf on his heel. His wife looked at him with clear horror on her face.

 

He needed to find Malik to make sense of this situation.

 

He marched quickly through the village into the bird cherry thicket. All that was left of the place were the charred remains of trees and a few stones here and there. All the burial mounds had been smashed into pieces and probably robbed empty as well. It was truly a horrible sight but what was even more horrifying to Altaïr personally was to find Malik on his knees at the edge of the site.

 

It took him approximately two seconds to realise that Malik was in front of what used to be his house. Malik’s house, or the witch’s house, stood apart from the other houses at the edge of the holy grounds. The house had been burned down.

 

“By the mother of all, what has been done here?” Rauf asked in clear disbelief.

 

The dog walked among the blackened earth sniffing out everything that was left of the holy grounds. He had never had such a good view to the lake from the thicket before, making him realise just how many bird cherries had grown there previously.

 

Altaïr kneeled in front of Malik who looked utterly defeated. It was understandable as the burial ground had been Malik’s domain and the house had most of the things he needed for the various spells and blessings he performed. It also had the guqin Malik used in rhythm with his singing. It was Malik’s home and very often Altaïr’s home as well; despite his status as the chieftain he spent much time in the small witch’s house.

 

He pulled Malik into an embrace as he felt the utter loathing and rage bubble up to the surface. How dare the Veiled Lord come here and burn down his ancestors and his home? How dare he touch his Malik’s property and make the people insane.

 

Malik was tense against Altaïr and Altaïr was no doubt squishing the man in his arms too hard. It was when Altaïr realised Malik was just as much if not more enraged as he was.

 

“Come. There’s a certain lord Robert and his god we need to deal with,” Altaïr said and stood up while lending a hand to Malik.

 

Altaïr checked their tiny party of resistance which consisted of Rauf and his spear, Malik and his bow, and himself with the sword. It would be more than enough against the Veiled Lord and his lackey even if he put up a fight.

 

He was the chieftain and his word was absolute. Anyone who would question his authority would suffer for it. When he was a child he had ridden a horse at the age of four and swam across the bay at the age of seven. He was destined for great things and there was no way some foreign whatever would threaten him.

 

They made their way back to the long house where people had started to exit the building slowly. He didn’t think through his plan more than a second before he rushed in the middle of the crowd and elbowed his way inside the long house.

 

He found the Veiled Lord inside putting something away as if the house belonged to him. He drew his blade and recognised his friends mirroring him. The Veiled Lord looked alarmed and dropped whatever the thing he had in his hands was to the ground. The interpreter rushed between him and the lord but he just shoved the man aside and strode towards the intruder in his home.

 

The interpreter stumbled on the fireplace in the middle of the house and fell to the ground which should have been covered in straw but for some reason was not. Rauf pointed his spear against the man on the ground without further command.

 

The Veiled Lord started shouting something incoherent as he realised Altaïr’s intentions. He realised a small crowd had gathered at the door to observe what he was up to. He didn’t let that interfere with him either.

 

Then somebody shouted from the door and ran in between him and the now cowering Veiled Lord. It was his wife. She spread her arms in a protective manner which made him see red.

 

“Move aside, woman!” he commanded but she just shook her head in defiance.

 

“I won’t allow you to kill him! If you kill him you must also kill me!” she shouted.

 

“So be it then,” Altaïr said with cold conviction. His fury was greater than his compassion.

 

He raised his blade to warn his wife that he was serious giving her time to move aside. A hand was laid on his upper arm and he looked on his side and saw Malik with a stern expression. He lowered his blade. Malik didn’t move his hand but instead he leaned closer to him and caught his free arm which he brought in between them at their chest level.

 

“Altaïr, don’t cut through your wife,” Malik said and squeezed his hand.

 

Altaïr glanced at his wife and the Veiled Lord who stared at them with his eyes full of terror.

 

“She stands in between me and that bastard. I want nothing more than to kill him for his crimes,” he argued back.

 

“Believe me, there’s nothing more I wish for at this moment but this is not the way to do it,” Malik answered and while Altaïr admired Malik’s apparent eternal compassion he felt frustrated.

 

“So what am I supposed to do?” he questioned.

 

“You are the leader. You need to lead by example. Think with your head for a while and if you still think it’s absolutely necessary to cut through kin then so be it,” Malik answered and leaned a bit closer before withdrawing.

 

“I need rope. I will decide later on what to do with him but for now there’s no way he’s going to walk freely poisoning and destroying our people,” Altaïr commanded after a short while of considering his options.

 

Malik was right though. If he killed his kin and even worse if he killed his kin in his own house the consequences would be horrible. There was nothing worse than soiling your own home with blood and turning your own blade against your own kin. Such things led to madness.

 

He sheathed his sword and somebody handed him the hemp rope. He roughly shoved his wife aside because while he had decided not to kill her she still had gone against him in a manner definitely not becoming. The only person in the entire world who had the right to defy him was Malik.

 

He tied the man up and punched him in the head for good measure when he tried to struggle against his administrations. It was a warning from him that he wouldn’t hesitate to deliver more violence if the man resisted. They may not have spoken the same language but they definitely understood the language of violence.

 

Altaïr yanked the man towards the door where the crowd parted to make room for them. He noticed Rauf had also tied up the interpreter and was walking him outside as well. The looks they received seemed to be a mixed bag of curiosity and horror.

 

When he had made it outside with his prisoner he stopped. All the idiots staring at the proceedings were starting to get on his nerves.

 

“And somebody make us some food already!” he barked at the countless women who had joined his wife in a silent protest at the doors of the long house.

 

“And you people go and unload the boats or there will be nothing for you out of the spoils!” he shouted at the loitering men among which he could not see Abbas for some reason.

 

Everybody scattered away obviously too scared of his mood to follow. Only Malik followed him and Rauf as they took the prisoners to the great spruce which towered on the western side of the village. On top of the spruce nested a giant eagle which guarded the village and from which Altaïr had received his name.

 

The prisoners were tied up to the tree so that they wouldn’t be able to escape.

 

“Tell him I will decide later on what to do with him,” he said to the interpreter.

 

“And ask him why he burned down the bird cherries and Malik’s home,” he continued.

 

The interpreter looked at him funnily before translating his message.

 

“The only God Vapahtaja doesn’t allow witchcraft or the worship of pagan gods. The witch is full of evil and the burial ground was a breeding ground for evil’s offspring but it is no longer. It has all been banished back to where it came from. You would do well to get rid of the witch and find the truth in the message of Vapahtaja. Discard your pagan name and start your life as a new born truth seeker,” the interpreter preached.

 

Altaïr felt sick to his stomach by the very idea of what he was proposing. Witches were the most important people in community. They were the ones who people turned to in times of trouble.

 

“You are mad! Only a complete idiot would even propose something like that,” he snapped and had to restrain himself from not beating the living lights out of his captives.

 

The Veiled Lord started to babble something once again which the interpreter translated, “The witch has cast a wicked spell on you to prevent you from seeing the truth but it’s not too late to accept Vapahtaja and discard your sinful ways.”

 

“The only truth here is that you severed our connection with our ancestors and prevented the current generation from moving forward when they die!” Altaïr growled and kicked the Veiled Lord on the knee from out of spite.

 

The man hissed in pain in which Altaïr took some satisfaction but he was sure he wouldn’t be happy until the man was dead. He turned around leaving the two prisoners behind. Nobody would dare to free them or they would know his wrath on their skins.

 

“I hope the Great Eagle gouges their eyes out,” Rauf commented in a very unusually spiteful way.

 

“If Malik had not stopped me in the long house I would have done much worse than that to them,” Altaïr replied.

 

The dog joined their company as they started to move back towards the village proper. A cat ran across the path and the dog darted after it.

 

He had never thought this was how he would find his home when he left in the autumn. He would have to interrogate someone to find out the truth though he had a feeling it would have little impact the end result.

 

They were in front of the long house. There was finally smoke coming out of the smokestack which meant that the women had taken his threat seriously.

 

“I need to find my wife,” Rauf said almost apologetically. Altaïr nodded in return and Rauf took of towards the direction of his home.

 

“Join us for the food!” he shouted at Rauf’s waning backside. He wasn’t sure if the man heard him but at least he had tried.

 

Malik was already inside the long house when he stepped inside. He was scrutinising the carving at the back wall and as Altaïr stepped next to him he could see Malik’s face contort in rage. It was not a nice sight to witness.

 

The women were cooking a meal which was definitely overdue. He would order someone to bring straw inside but for now it could wait.

 

“This is the reason they burned down the bird cherries and desecrated the burial mounds?” Malik asked which brought Altaïr’s attention back to him.

 

“This Vapahtaja doesn’t look like very powerful spirit to me,” Altaïr commented.

 

“Burn it,” Malik said quietly but full of silent rage so that he visibly shook from the sheer want to destroy something.

 

Altaïr grabbed the thing from the wall without hesitation.

 

“I will burn the entire world for you,” Altaïr said while looking straight into Malik’s eyes which were fierce like that of the warrior witches of olden tales.

 

He threw the carving into the fire earning himself several surprised gasps among the women in the house. He gave them all a warning glare.

 

“Your god is dead. Burned to cinders and sent to the very same pits the Veiled Lord sent your own ancestors,” Altaïr said.

 

*********************

 

In the evening Altaïr returned with Malik to the great spruce. Altaïr had calmed down to a manageable level while Malik was still obviously enraged but it was to be expected as Malik held his grudges for a long time.

 

The sky was cloudless which meant it would be a cold night so they both had thrown their cloaks over their shoulders. Malik wore the black fox cloak which Altaïr had given him years ago. Normally someone like Malik wouldn’t be of the status and wealth to have one, despite being a witch, but it was Altaïr’s way to signal to other people to keep their hands off his man.

 

He wanted to interrogate the prisoners to reach a conclusion as to what exactly to do with them. The whole village was a mess and while many of the people seemed to be relieved that he had brought things back to normal, there were several who had swallowed the garbage the Veiled Lord spewed. Among those people were his own wife.

 

“So do you know in what kind of trouble you are in?” he asked the pair of prisoners.

 

“I am saving these poor souls and showing them the truth. I hope you can find the truth of Vapahtaja before it’s too late,” came the answer which was spoken in an annoying tone of pity.

 

Altaïr gritted his teeth and saw Malik crossing his arms next to him. Neither of them were satisfied with the answer that was given to them since it was spoken as if the Veiled Lord was in a position above them.

 

“Aren’t you afraid of death?” Altaïr questioned.

 

The Veiled Lord burst into laughter as soon as the interpreter had finished translating his question. Malik looked at Altaïr with a questioning look but he couldn’t do anything but shrug in return.

 

“Blessed are those who give their lives to Vapahtaja! This life is only temporary and the true life starts after death. I fear no death. I embrace it,” the Veiled Lord answered.

 

“What kind of god is Vapahtaja?” Malik asked while shifting his weight uncomfortably from one leg to another.

 

“There is no other god but Vapahtaja. Vapahtaja is everywhere and he knows everything. Only the people who know the truth will be accepted by him. All the rest are false gods or evil spirits.”

 

“The spirits aren’t evil. They just are and go about their business. We have a duty to respect them just like we respect other people. You killed our spirits and there’s no knowing what will come of that because it no doubt angered the lake and the lands around it. How can you not know this?!” Malik burst in anger.

 

“Ah but you would know all about that, _witch_ and I know you lay with men too,” the Veiled Lord replied maliciously.

 

Malik looked baffled by the answer to say the least and Altaïr didn’t really know what to make of the statement.

 

“You say that as if it was a bad thing?” Altaïr butted in with the conversation.

 

“Witches summon evil spirits and mate with them. Vapahtaja says only men and women should lie with one another. You ignore your wife in order to fornicate with the witch,” the Veiled Lord answered.

 

Altaïr burst into laughter at the sheer absurdity of what had been said to him. The men before him who were tied to a tree clearly had no idea how the world worked in the least bit. Clearly these men were insane.

 

Malik looked very unamused but then again he had been accused of mating with supernatural beings. Altaïr couldn’t even imagine how it would be even possible to fuck the spirit of the lake for example.

 

“Come on. Let’s leave these idiots here before the stupidity spreads to us,” Altaïr said once he had managed to calm himself down from the laughing fit.

 

He threw his arm around Malik’s waist in a deliberate display for the captives to see. Malik returned the gesture in kind as they walked back to the long house. These kinds of things were something he was sure he would never grow tired of. Malik felt warm and fit perfectly against him.

 

That evening when they sat in the dim light of the burning shingles littered around the long house Malik sang spells and stories. The people seemed to be delighted to hear them after the long winter spent listening to the Veiled Lord preaching to them about Vapahtaja. At least most of the people were.

 

It was a very comforting feeling to hear the steady rhythm of the spells sang to protect the long house and to ask the spirits for a good crop this year. It was absolutely delightful to hear Malik sing about their adventures in the north. How they had killed a bear and skied after an elk for a day.

 

Altaïr looked at Malik’s solemn expression and then at the awed people in the long house and thought to himself as to how anybody could have thought any of the lies the Veiled Lord had told them were true. But in the corner of the house sat people who eyed Malik with a clear disdain in their eyes and it was at that point Altaïr realised he had been lucky to bring Malik with him to the north.

 

*******************

 

The next day he stirred next to Malik’s familiar warmth. They were in the long house instead of the witch’s house which was unusual because Malik didn’t like sleeping in the long house. But then he remembered that the house had been burned down.

 

Malik was still sound asleep and only his head peeked out from underneath the coverings. Usually Malik was the one to wake up first but Altaïr figured out that singing until everybody else had gone to sleep and having gone through all the same troubles as he had the day before had taken its toll on the man.

 

Just as he was about to gently shake Malik awake the door to the long house abruptly opened. The blinding sunlight streamed in through, making it hard to see who was standing at the doorway. Altaïr raised his hand to cover his eyes and felt Malik jolting up next to him.

 

“They have escaped!” the figure in the doorway said which Altaïr now recognised as being Rauf.

 

“What?!” Altaïr exclaimed and felt himself jump on his feet and start to fumble for his clothes.

 

“I went to drive out the sheep a while ago and as I was passing the spruce they were nowhere to be seen,” Rauf explained as he stepped inside the house.

 

“How could they have? They were tied up so that there was no way for them to escape,” he argued even though he knew Rauf couldn’t help the situation in any way.

 

“Maybe someone helped them to escape. Last evening as I sang the spells many people turned their backs to me. They have many sympathisers among our own,” Malik reasoned while pulling on his linen shirts though he still looked as if he was half-asleep.

 

“None of our own would dare it,” Altaïr snapped.

 

“And why wouldn’t they? They did burn down the bird cherries,” Malik lashed out venomously.

 

“I don’t think they could have gotten too far yet because they must be travelling on foot since none of the horses are missing,” Rauf attempted to soothe out the erupting fight.

 

Altaïr grabbed his sword and strapped it on while Malik threw his bow and arrows over his shoulder. They would catch them and drag them back even if they had to hack them into tiny pieces.

 

As they headed out of the house Malik whistled for his dog which appeared after few whistles. While the dog had the most annoying bark in the world Altaïr couldn’t argue with the fact that it was very useful in hunting down prey. Usually their prey wasn’t two men though.

 

As they made their way towards the tree Altaïr noticed Abbas for the first time since they had returned and a young woman who had a baby with her accompanying him. He had never seen the woman before.

 

“That’s Adha,” Malik said while staring at the strange woman.

 

“How do you know that?” Altaïr asked.

 

“She lives in the village across the bay. She is an age mate to us,” Malik explained and looked utterly confused at the scene.

 

“Why is she here? And why is she with Abbas?” Altaïr queried while already taking strides towards the two.

 

“I have no idea,” Malik answered and followed him.

 

Abbas seemed to notice the three of them and looked distinctly uncomfortable. Altaïr knew that instance there was something fishy going on with the whole situation and something in his gut told him it had everything to do with the prisoners suddenly making an escape.

 

“Abbas!” Altaïr greeted.

 

The woman flinched and looked visibly scared as she eyed between him and Malik. Malik was probably wearing the most murderous expression humanly possible. Altaïr himself tried to appear as casual as possible but Abbas while many things, wasn’t stupid and he knew something was up when Malik was pissed off carrying a bow and Altaïr had his sword.

 

“Altaïr,” Abbas greeted back and nodded at him.

 

“Where were you yesterday when we arrived?” Altaïr asked while slapping Abbas just a little bit too hard on the back to be a completely friendly gesture.

 

“I was in the village across the bay and just came back this morning,” Abbas replied.

 

“And you brought back a friend it seems,” Altaïr said while eyeing the woman from head to toe.

 

“Adha, long time no see,” Malik greeted.

 

“I don’t go by that name any longer,” she squeaked.

 

Altaïr glanced at Malik who nodded in return.

 

“Abbas, what do you know about the disappearance of the two men tied to the great spruce?” he inquired and moved his stance into a more offensive one.

 

“I know nothing about it!” Abbas cried out in defensively which contradicted the drastic change in demeanour as Altaïr brought up the subject of the captives.

 

“Really? You just happened to appear at the same time as the two disappeared?” he pushed on and Abbas literally backed up under his pressure.

 

But it wasn’t Abbas who caved under his pressure but the woman who all but shrieked how she had released the Veiled Lord or as she called him Lord Robert. He would deal with these two idiots later on but for now he had better things to do.

 

They got to the spruce where the dog picked up the trail very quickly. The dog dashed to the west of the village and they followed running behind it. It seemed the men had followed the cart path leading out of the village quite fatefully.

 

After they had run for a considerable amount of time they finally caught up with their prey who noticed them across the far reaching rye field which was still at this time of the year barren. They attempted to flee from them which made Altaïr ran after them all that faster.

 

An arrow whizzed right past him and punctured through the Veiled Lord’s calf. Altaïr glanced quickly through his shoulder and saw Malik drawing another arrow so he kept running. Then another arrow found its target in the interpreter’s leg.

 

Both men fell on the ground holding their wounded legs. Blood was trickling from the wounds dyeing the fabric of their trousers red.

 

Altaïr yanked the Veiled Lord up not all too politely as he had run out of any compassion there might have been towards the man. Rauf did the same for the interpreter while Malik walked in fast strides towards them.

 

“What did you think you were going to achieve?” he snapped and shook the man violently.

 

There was no intelligent reply but pleads for their lives which didn’t really need any translation and the interpreter was pleading just as much as his master so he was useless. Altaïr hit the man to silence him.

 

“Don’t even think about escaping,” Altaïr growled while shoving the man towards the way to the village.

 

It took quite a long for them to reach the village as their captives limped but once they reached it. He deliberately walked them through the village proper where everyone gathered to watch.

 

He had only one destination and it was the burial ground. It was where all this had started and where it would all end.

 

Once they had reached the site he sent Rauf to the village smith for some hot iron. Once a big enough of a crowd had gathered to see what was going on he drew his sword.

 

“This is how we deal with desecraters of that which is sacred,” Altaïr said in time for Rauf to appear back with a hot iron.

 

He yanked the interpreter from his hair and forced him on his knees on the ground. Then he slashed his throat open and kicked him on the back. The man fell on the blackened ground with a gurgling sound.

 

There were loud gasps in the audience. Somebody shouted something encouraging while others screamed. Altaïr just looked at Malik for confirmation which was received in the most minute of nods and change of posture which would have gone unnoticed by anyone else.

 

Then he took hold of the Veiled Lord’s hand and outstretched his arm. He brought down his sword to the arm and it went through it. The man shouted in pain and attempted flee but Malik restrained him immediately.

 

Altaïr waved the limb to the people before throwing it to the ground.

 

They had to force the thrashing and screaming man to the ground where Altaïr finished the job by chopping off the other arm.

 

“Rauf bring the hot iron,” Altaïr said.

 

Rauf brought the iron and handed it to Malik who cauterised the stumps that were left of the Veiled Lord’s arms. The man stopped his thrashing and was just screaming in agony.

 

“We should give him to the lake,” Malik said and Altaïr agreed. Leaving the man to the land was too easy.

 

He dragged the man through the village once more to the boat-shore where he threw him into one of the dugouts. He noticed an extra dugout on his way which he deducted was how Abbas and the woman had came to the village.

 

He rowed out to the lake and took course towards one particular island on it. It wasn’t too far away and in fact it could be seen from the shores of the village easily but it was not within hearing distance.

 

After a while of rowing his dugout hit the island’s shore. He tied up his boat and forced the whimpering man out of it.

 

On the island grew only one tree. He hauled the man against the tree and tied him up, hoping the lake would claim him before the wounds and starvation would.

 

As parting words to the Veiled Lord he said, “Where is your god now? You chose the wrong place to impose your shit.”

 

Then Altaïr jumped to his boat and rowed back to the village.

 


	2. Riches of the west

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next exciting chapter is here :D 
> 
> I sincerely thank for all the comments, Kudos, etc which I have already gotten for this story they really give me motivation!
> 
> Beta-read by DarthTofu

Everybody was still asleep when Malik woke up in to the darkness of the long house. Altaïr clung to him in his sleep which was nothing new.

 

Malik extracted himself carefully to not wake up Altaïr or anyone sleeping in the long house. He didn’t like staying in the long house for extended periods of time and after their return from the north he liked doing so even less than before. The long house was too big, too dark, and too oppressive to feel comfortable.

 

Altaïr of course felt right at home in the long house and by all accounts he himself should have as well. But while he was the chieftain’s son in the village across the bay he had been a sickly child and spent most of his early childhood confined to the women’s house.

 

He pulled on his clothes and tried to not make too much noise when he did so. Altaïr grunted in his sleep while attempting to grab for something with his hands. That something being presumably Malik. The sight amused Malik and the thought of Altaïr ever finding out what a baby he was in his sleep made him chuckle quietly.

 

He sneaked past the few people sleeping in the house and let the door open just enough to go through it. His dog was sleeping outside the door and he crouched down to scratch it.

 

The air was misty and not terribly warm. The sun was still pale but warmed enough to not feel chilly.

 

He made his way to the burial ground. The ground was still mostly blackened by ash but some of the mounds had been repaired and fresh food had been brought to the dead.

 

His new house was almost completed and stood where the old one had been. He had been surprised to learn that many of his things had been picked up by the villagers before the foreigners with their followers had burned it down. He was still missing a lot but one thing he was glad to have gotten back was his guqin which made singing spells a lot easier.

 

The dog went through the unfinished doorway and Malik followed after. All that was required was the door and roof to be finished and he could move in. The whole village had participated in building it so the work had been fast.

 

After the incident with the Veiled Lord their world had gone back to much the same way it had been before. The difference was that the sacred bird cherries weren’t there any longer and roughly a third of the people worshipped Vapahtaja instead of turning for the spirits.

 

The truth seekers as they called themselves didn’t like Malik’s presence but also didn’t have any option but to turn to him when one of them got sick, or some other problem arise. He didn’t like helping them but he did so anyway because they were still one of their own.

 

And as he had watched the charred remains of his home he had realised he had been lucky to follow Altaïr to the north this year because the deliberate nature of targeting his home meant that they would have probably also burned him down along with it. It was a chilling thought.

 

He looked at the house which still had no furniture or any of his equipment and thought about the witch’s house across the bay where he had been brought as a child. The witch in his old village had been an old man and seemed infinitely wiser than Malik currently was. The man had seen his intelligence and made a deal with his father for Malik’s apprenticeship.

 

He stepped out of the house and stopped to listen to the birds. A cuckoo sang somewhere far away and he counted the cuckoos. Twelve cuckoos which was a good number and nothing to be worried about.

 

He made his way to the fields while the dog tailed him all the way. The rye was only knee length at this point and it had a lot of growing yet to do. Soon it would be the hay season and the heat of the day would be unbearable. The signs looked good for this year for both the crops and the hay.

 

He sat down on a rock and let himself relax for a while.

 

His quiet musings were interrupted by Altaïr who was still yawning and obviously had just woken up. His hair was tousled and he had an impression of something having pressed on his cheek.

 

“How are you up at this hour?” Malik asked.

 

Altaïr yawned once more and stretched his arms slowly.

 

“The bed was cold without you in it,” Altaïr answered and tried his best kicked puppy expression. Malik snorted in return.

 

“I don’t like the long house and you know it,” Malik replied and shrugged his shoulders.

 

Altaïr sat next to him on the rock and threw his arm around Malik’s waist. Malik leaned into the touch and closed his eyes for a while.

 

He thought how lucky he was to be loved by someone like Altaïr as Altaïr was different from the rest. Malik may have been a witch and respected by the people but Altaïr was a leader.

 

His brother was also a leader but Altaïr was different from him as well. Altaïr had something that made people want to follow him and it was simply a quality Malik himself didn’t possess. In reality he thought the village was a too small place for Altaïr and he had noticed how Altaïr was gradually growing restless by the mundane comings and goings of the village life and the people in it.

 

Lips and teeth found their way to Malik’s exposed neck which while felt really good there made him jolt in surprise. Altaïr just smoothed his sides in response while continuing his assault on Malik’s neck.

 

“Altaïr, it’s way too early for this,” Malik warned even if his body wanted to do something entirely different.

 

“Malik, please?” Altaïr whined and all the praiseworthy ideas Malik had had of him earlier vanished.

 

“No. Stop being a child. We have – you have things to do,” Malik said while getting up which was made slightly difficult by Altaïr clinging to hems of his tunic.

 

*********************

 

It was at the shore of the lake after a hard days work of hauling peat at the top of his new house’s roof when Altaïr caught up with him once again. They were both covered more or less in the peat and Malik’s number one priority was to scrub himself clean in the water.

 

He threw his clothes on the shore and saw Altaïr do the same. Malik walked slowly to the water giving his body time to adjust to the temperature. Altaïr on the other hand jumped from the pier plunging himself straight into the water, creating massive splashes when he broke the surface of the water.

 

Malik looked on as Altaïr surfaced and shook his head. Altaïr’s body looked delicious as the water trickled over his well defined muscles and Malik was more than glad he had managed to make his way to the point where the water was at the level of his navel.

 

He wondered if there would be a day when he didn’t get a reaction from looking at Altaïr’s naked body. He raised his gaze from Altaïr’s abs and tried to focus on looking across the bay.

 

Then he dunked himself in the water completely. The sensation made him want to gasp for air for a short while before getting used to it and as he broke the surface of the water on his way back he saw Altaïr swimming.

 

As he scrubbed himself from the dirt Altaïr joined his side and helped to clean his back. Altaïr’s touches on his back weren’t completely innocent, occasionally wandering down too low and sometimes stopping at his hips.

 

But it wasn’t until Altaïr pressed himself flat against Malik’s back Malik realised how aroused Altaïr actually was. To think that he could so easily get a response out of Altaïr turned him on impossibly.

 

He managed to turn around though Altaïr’s hands attempted to hold him where he was. He pushed himself against Altaïr and their lips met half way through. They were almost equal in size so neither of them had to do much of anything but tilt their heads to the side and enjoy the kiss.

 

They may have started the kiss softly but it ended up into moaning into each others mouths with teeth biting on the lips. Malik took their hard dicks into his hand while Altaïr mirrored the motion. He had to take support from Altaïr not the fall on his back as he stroked and got stroked. The pleasure shot through him as he reached his climax and Altaïr bit him in the shoulder hard enough to leave marks.

 

In the end they both leaned against each other, panting from the effort and excitement. Malik wiped himself and Altaïr clean, letting the water carry the evidence of their activities with it.

 

“You know when I saw you the first time when I swam across the lake I knew you were the one I would hold closest to myself,” Altaïr said and lazily pointed across the bay where the other village was.

 

“What I remember was you calling me tiny. You wanting to fuck me came ways later,” Malik countered.

 

“When I met you the next winter on the ice I was so happy,” Altaïr said and leaned on Malik. Malik sighed and took the man into an embrace.

 

“I did promise you, didn’t I?” Malik said and ran his hands up and down Altaïr’s back.

 

“Would you follow me again if I asked?” Altaïr questioned.

 

Malik paused to examine the question for a while. Altaïr had something in mind and it most likely wasn’t just the ordinary trip to hunt and raid the north. He wouldn’t be asking such a thing if he wanted to just terrorise the reindeer people.

 

“I would,” he answered because the conclusion he had reached was that despite what had gone down this spring he supported Altaïr with all of his being.

 

“Then follow me to the house. I don’t think I’m quite done yet,” Altaïr said and grinned.

 

“You know you don’t need to trick me into bottoming,” Malik teased at Altaïr’s twist of words though something told him there was still something underlying the words other than fucking.

 

“With you it’s better to play it safe,” Altaïr said while making it to the shore to collect his things.

 

“You think I would sing a spell and make you obey all my commands? Maybe sing you into a swamp?” he joked while also gathering his things.

 

“You already have had me under your spell for years,” Altaïr replied.

 

“I can’t even begin to describe how terrible that was,” Malik said while examining his shirts which were desperately in need of cleaning.

 

They both ended up just pulling on their trousers and walking barefoot while carrying rest of their clothes on their arms. They made their way to Malik’s new house which he had insisted he wanted to start using since the roof was now done. It still lacked the door but fresh straw covered the floor and it had a bed and all the furs and wool blankets in place.

 

Malik’s things littered the floor because the villagers had brought in all of his things that had been temporarily stashed into the long house. They had to be careful not to break any of the things as they made the small way to the bed.

 

The straw mattress which on Malik fell back first with Altaïr on top him smelled fresh and was still pleasantly puffy. The walls were not yet darkened by soot and a sweet aroma of pine filled the air.

 

“When did you have time to hide this here?” Altaïr asked as he pulled an earthenware vial from between the mattress.

 

“Man must know his priorities,” Malik answered unashamed of his arousal which had awakened once more somewhere in the trek from the shore to the house.

 

He pulled Altaïr into kiss before more stupid questions would be asked. He roamed his hands over Altaïr’s muscled back all the way down to the waistline of his trousers. He raised his leg to accommodate Altaïr better between his thighs while Altaïr had found a fascination with his collarbones which he licked and nipped with enthusiasm.

 

“My upper body will be bruised at the rate you are going,” Malik said yet encouraged Altaïr by running his hand through his hair.

 

“I don’t see you protesting all that much,” Altaïr answered between bites and yanked Malik’s trousers off.

 

He gently pushed Altaïr off of himself and Altaïr looked at him confused. He took the vial containing the special mix of oils and grease he needed to prepare himself.

 

“I want you to watch me,” Malik purred because he enjoyed the obviously lustful way Altaïr roamed his eyes over his body.

 

He pushed in only finger at first and gave a few caresses to his dick at the same time. He glanced at Altaïr who also had his hand on his cock.

 

Then he added a second finger and made a show to run his other hand over his body while making purposefully lewd noises. Altaïr was fidgeting as it was obviously hard for him to keep his hands to himself.

 

When he added the third finger he made a show about fucking his fingers because he really liked the feeling and because it would drive Altaïr crazy. It was part of the pleasure to see Altaïr aroused to the point of exploding.

 

“I can’t believe you are doing this to me?” Altaïr said in what sounded almost like a whimper.

 

“Doing what?” he feigned ignorance.

 

“I’m not complaining here but my balls will burst any second,” Altaïr deadpanned and Malik had to resist the urge to start laughing.

 

“Then come here,” Malik said and pulled his hand back.

 

Altaïr was on him in an instant and took him just a little bit too fast. Altaïr did stop while he was completely inside giving Malik time to adjust so it only felt slightly uncomfortable. They were both panting like they had run around the village ten times.

 

But when they were like this Malik felt like nature had intended them for each other all along. He thanked the spirits of the ground and asked Altaïr to start moving.

 

Altaïr fucked him with a powerful thrust which all sent waves of pleasure for him. He pulled Altaïr down for a kiss and their teeth clacked against each other when they sloppily kissed each other between thrusts.

 

The intensity of the sensations he was feeling made him crave for a release. He could feel his dick rubbing against Altaïr’s stomach but it wasn’t enough. Altaïr was now pulling him from his hips against all the thrusts which meant he had to be near his climax as well.

 

Malik reached for his cock and started stroking himself to the same rhythm Altaïr was keeping. He was so close and all it did to drive him over the edge was Altaïr’s hand joining his on his dick. Altaïr followed closely behind spilling his seed inside of Malik despite the numerous times he had told the man to pull out before that happened.

 

Nothing he could do about it now though so he just pulled Altaïr into an embrace and kissed him lazily. They both panted and were covered in sweat.

 

“I think the house is now adequately blessed,” Altaïr commented while resting his jaw against Malik’s pectorals. Malik snorted in return and run his fingers through Altaïr’s hair.

 

“With you around it’s more likely to be cursed,” Malik replied.

 

After they had cleaned up themselves they sat outside in the waning light of the day. Altaïr rested his head on Malik’s lap while Malik played the guqin while singing the stories of the ancient heroes.

 

********************

 

Malik had been right in his assessment that Altaïr was growing restless. It was the most evident right before the harvest when Malik could catch him deep in his thoughts staring into the lake.

 

It was one of those times Malik had decided he had had enough of the sulking and mysterious acting from Altaïr and decided to confront him about it.

 

“You my friend are planning something. Care to share your burden?” he inquired and Altaïr looked at him with his golden-coloured eyes which most people seemed to find fascinating. Malik didn’t deny his attraction to Altaïr’s physical attributes but what made him stay and follow Altaïr were different kinds of reasons.

 

“I want to attack the lands from which the Veiled Lord came from,” Altaïr answered.

 

To say that Malik was surprised would have been a lie because he had known in his heart that there would be a day when Altaïr wouldn’t be satisfied with harassing the local villages and raiding the reindeer people in the north.

 

“So that’s what has been stewing in your mind the entire summer,” Malik replied.

 

“Will you follow me?” Altaïr asked but both of them knew the answer even before Malik had said anything.

 

“Yes.”

 

“You need to make sure the harvest is plentiful,” Altaïr said.

 

“I will and you will need more men than Rauf and me,” Malik replied.

 

“All the villages in the area suffered from the Veiled Lord’s presence. I’m sure there will be plenty of willing people to join me,” Altaïr answered and it just went to show how much he had spent thoughts on the subject matter.

 

***************************

 

He did everything in his power to make the harvest a success. He looked at the moon, listened to the birds, consulted frogs, and sang spells. It paid off because in the end the harvest was the likes he had never seen before.

 

People’s respect for him grew and more than that the villages around them took notice of their power. So when Altaïr rode out to gather volunteers for his raid to the west he managed to amass a force of which they had never seen in their lands.

 

Usually the skirmishes were among dozens of men but what set off to the west right before the winter was on them were hundreds. They chose to leave before the lake froze over because they intended to raid the villages along the way for food and they weren’t encumbered by hunting equipment.

 

Some of the people had horses like Malik and Altaïr did but most were on foot carrying their weapons and skis for the inevitable winter. Riding a horse was more of a status thing rather than anything that was actually useful in battle.

 

Along the way they were joined by a few more volunteers from here and there from villages that didn’t resist their invasion but opened up their gates sharing their resources with them. Many places had not seen a witch for a long time so he would be asked to sing spells and give advice in several places.

 

It wasn’t until much later on when they reached territories not even the most adventurous of the crowd had ever explored that they got their first taste of battle. A village where the people spoke funnily and were all Vapahtaja worshippers refused to let them in.

 

Altaïr shouted a command to attack them and attack they did.

 

The men rushed forwards while the locals tried to resist them. It was all futile as their massive force just mashed through everything and reduced the entire village into ash.

 

Afterwards everyone was feeling high on victory and when they reached the next village they didn’t even stop to ask if they would let them in as they just forced themselves in and repeated the process from the previous village. It felt like they were unstoppable and rumours of Altaïr’s invincibility started to circulate among the people.

 

Then the snows came and they had to start sking. The few horses they had were turned into pack animals because it was the easiest way to travel through the snow.

 

They continued towards the west until they came outside a village so big they had never seen anything like it. They could see the symbols of Vapahtaja far away to the place where they were holding a meeting.

 

Altaïr wore his white fox cloak over his shoulders which set him apart from the other people around him. It was like looking at someone from a different world altogether but the image worked and all the men around Altaïr believed he could lead them to infinite victories.

 

As they looked at the big village they realised it was a different kind of thing to take it on from the other battles they had fought so far. It wouldn’t do to just attack it recklessly.

 

At this point there were some unofficial leaders among the group. Altaïr lead all of them and that was given but Malik’s brother who had grown to look more like a bear was another, Rauf was the third, and Faisal who joined them from one of the villages. And Malik supposed he was looked up in some way but he was more known as Altaïr right hand man which was a position he was more than glad to oblige.

 

“Kadar you take a group of men and go around to the back, Rauf take the northern flank, Faisal go to the southern side, and I’ll take the rest and attack the front,” Altaïr commanded.

 

The three of them dispersed to gather themselves a group of people while Malik was left with Altaïr. It went without saying he would fight alongside with Altaïr covering his back with his arrows while Altaïr slashed through anything that resembled an enemy. At this point the people spoke completely unintelligible language and all of them worshipped Vapahtaja. Malik could see how the spirits of these lands were neglected and all the old holy places had been abandoned or a temple for Vapahtaja had been built in their place.

 

“Give me your sword,” he said to Altaïr as he did before each battle and Altaïr handed over his blade.

 

Malik cut a shallow wound on his own wrist with the sword. Then he drew few spells with the blood on the flat side of the blade.

 

“Now the blade knows blood and will seek it out in the battle,” he said while handing it over to Altaïr.

 

“I will lead us to a great victory,” Altaïr replied and helped Malik to wrap his bleeding wrist in a bandage.

 

“Shall we then?” Malik asked and grabbed his bow, arrows, and a dagger which he had looted from one of the villages on the way.

 

Altaïr nodded and moved to find his group of men. Malik followed a step behind eyeing the men critically. Most were armed with spears or axes but a few donned an actual sword which were probably looted from a dead person.

 

“Let the worshippers of Vapahtaja know the might of our people!” Altaïr shouted and the men responded with excitement.

 

The rest was almost pure chaos as they charged the village. Malik followed Altaïr staying a bit further back from the rest shooting support fire when needed. He could hear someone in the village sound an alarm when they saw the approaching forces Altaïr lead.

 

They just ran straight into the village where a hastily put together resistance met them. Altaïr slashed a man in half and Malik shot someone in the eye. The man with an arrow in his skull dropped on the point where he was standing.

 

More enemies joined the fight and even if they fought fearlessly they were starting to be pushed back. Altaïr was surrounded from three sides. Malik shot two of the men which gave Altaïr room to deal with the third one and then srike the killing blow for the two.

 

Then Malik saw Kadar leading his group to the backside of the enemy. They crashed straight into the enemy with their weapons brutally just cutting limbs and impaling hem on spears.

 

The enemies started shouting something amongst themselves and while Malik could not understand what they were saying he realised their morale was breaking. They attempted to flee.

 

But it was futile as the two other groups flanked them. Soon there was nothing left but dead bodies and they started looting the village and killing any remaining opposition as they came across it.

 

Altaïr’s white fox cloak had splashes of blood on it and the front side of his also white tunic was now stained red. Malik knew Altaïr would just loot himself a new one from the village because he had apparently chosen white to be his colour of choice.

 

When few of the buildings were already burning and Vapahtaja’s temple had been turned into a temporary long house where everyone had gathered to celebrate their greatest victory so far Altaïr came to Malik. They were both more than a little aroused from the fighting that had taken place and it didn’t take too long for them to crash into each other.

 

Kadar found them with their hands down in each others trousers and seemed to be greatly amused. Kadar carried their ancestral sword with him since he was the chieftain of the village across the bay and Malik was sure the blade had never seen so much blood as it had in this journey.

 

“There are women in the village, you know,” Kadar commented cheekily and grinned widely.

 

“Who needs these barbarian women when I have your brother?” Altaïr answered and pulled Malik into another kiss just to show off for Kadar but Malik wasn’t all that impressed by his antics.

 

“They sing songs about Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad the greatest warrior chieftain ever to have lived and of his powerful witch Malik Al-Sayf,” Kadar said and kept smiling.

 

Malik’s brother may have looked like a bear and had certain childish qualities about himself but never to be said that Kadar couldn’t be happy for his brother even if they didn’t live in the same village any longer. It was Kadar’s brother who was the powerful witch and just being related to someone like that brought great glory and respect to the house.

 

“I’m sure they will sing songs about your bravery in battle too, little brother,” Malik said and detached himself reluctantly from Altaïr.

 

Kadar just shook his head but kept smiling.

 

“No, brother, they won’t. The rest of us live in the shadow of your glory and will be forgotten after a few generations whereas I’m sure they will be singing the song about you two as long as our people are around,” Kadar said with a foresight Malik didn’t even know his brother being capable of but he supposed being a leader of people forced wisdom to a person.

 

“I promise I will sing of your heroism so you won’t be forgotten,” Malik replied.

 

Kadar grinned like a maniac and threw his arms behind his neck like a proud child would. The grey wolf cloak Kadar wore just accentuated the bizarreness of seeing a grown-up man emulate a child and the blood stains on his linen tunic didn’t help either.

 

“I think you should be more worried about being able to walk without a limp tomorrow after Altaïr is done with you rather than think about the songs being sang,” Kadar said and wiggled his eyebrows at them.

 

Any respect he may have had for his little brother vanished that instant.

 

“At least I’m getting some. I will sing the song of my impotent brother and curse you,” he threatened as he just couldn’t come up with anything better for the moment. Altaïr burst into laughter besides him.

 

Kadar laughed and walked away with the probable intention of joining the merry drunken rabble in the long house.

 

They continued where they had left off and afterwards joined the people in the long house. It was warm and loud in there. All the wood carvings of Vapahtaja had been turned into firewood and were currently burned in the middle of the house with the smoke escaping through a small hole in the ceiling somebody had broken into the straw covering it.

 

Malik had been sceptical of Kadar’s claims that the people sang songs about him but he heard them himself. He knew their party had several singers with them because every village had at least one who would sing and knew the songs about the old heroes but it was still odd to hear anyone sing about him.

 

He considered himself a mere witch but the singer sang about someone with almost god-like qualities. He could apparently curse hundred people at the same time, make the weather obey him, and heal every sickness that had ever existed.

 

Altaïr was described as being the mightiest of warriors blessed by the spirits. The singer claimed Altaïr was the strongest warrior chieftain and Malik was sure Altaïr enjoyed all the ego stroking because he always did.

 

A horn of beer entered suddenly his vision. At the other end of the arm that held the horn was Rauf who beamed like the sun itself.

 

“Drink and loosen up,” Rauf said and Malik could hear from his voice he was already slightly drunk.

 

He took the offered horn and drank.

 

*****************

 

The next day all of them woke more or less hungover and Malik regretted all of his life choices so badly. Altaïr’s hand was inside his trousers and when he got up from the tangle of limbs he managed to wake up Altaïr as well.

 

He pulled his trousers to a better position and glanced over the sleeping forms of the men all around the house. So many of them would come to him to ask a miracle remedy for their hangovers. The fire had burned out already ages ago since nobody had not covered the embers and it would have probably been chilly in the house but there were simply so many bodies in there that it was relatively comfortable.

 

He made it outside and noticed how it had snowed during the night. The blood red snow was no longer as it was covered by the fresh layer of snow. It was as if no battle ever happened except for the bodies littered around the village.

 

He wandered around the village aimlessly until he was joined up by Altaïr who was holding his head and avoiding looking at the sky. It was clear he was hungover as well.

 

“We should probably stay the day here before moving on,” he suggested since he knew none of them were in the condition of actually moving forward.

 

“Yes, I agree,” Altaïr replied.

 

They stayed the day in the village and the next day they looted everything worth looting for and packed their findings to the sleighs they had pillaged. When they would eventually return they would be rich men.

 

They had a midwinter celebration on their way after they had raided yet another village. They burned a huge bonfire and danced around it while singing songs. The day was at its shortest and there was only very little time to move during the daylight. On cloudless nights they could make their way relatively easily in the moonlight but on cloudy nights they didn’t have any choice but to just sit it out.

 

Then they hit another big village. It was much bigger than the one they had raided before and it was walled. They had managed to get a few of the locals on their side so they knew the village was called Kaupunki and it had a significant population along with a fighting force.

 

It wasn’t all though because as they had gone further towards the west it was clear the people were starting to be informed of their oncoming force. The villages were more and more prepared for their coming than they had been in the beginning.

 

They would rain arrows on them and burn their granaries as they saw them coming. The Vapahtaja’s temple lords would flee before they could slay them and there was less treasure to be found.

 

A bad feeling was creeping on him but he didn’t voice his opinion as nobody else seemed to have really paid any attention to what was going on. They were more hyped and believed in their invincibility more than they had in the beginning.

 

As the night fell they sent a few of their stealthiest warriors to torch the palisades from all different directions of the village. They wanted to burn down the walls but also inflict mass hysteria among the village dwellers.

 

They sat in the nearby woods away from the direct line of sight from anyone within the village. They were waiting for just the right moment to attack.

 

The fire took a while to catch on but once it did it started eating up the wooden palisades like they were nothing. The villagers had not noticed the whole thing until it was too late and that was when Altaïr shouted a command to attack them.

 

All of their force rushed forward simultaneously from the forest. The air was filled with battle cries and crunching of the snow under hundreds of feet.

 

Malik tailed behind Altaïr as he always did who ran in front of the whole group. They smashed through a gap in the wall and made it inside the village where they were confronted by the enemy warriors who looked confused but who retaliated instantly.

 

It seemed there were just as many enemies as there were of their own. Altaïr thrust his sword through someone, spun around on his heel to deal with another enemy, and kicked another trying to take a swing at him.

 

Malik shot a man in the neck who tried to sneak on Altaïr from behind. The arrow came through from the other side. He purposefully targeted their limbs and heads because the thick cloth armour prevented his arrows from piercing through but they never had as much armour on their extremeties as they had on their torsos.

 

The battle raged on and both forces seemed rather equally matched in strength. Malik kept firing as quickly as he possibly could because it seemed there was no end to the enemies around Altaïr.

 

“Altaïr, they are targeting you!” he shouted as he realised that nobody else had so many enemies around them. They must have heard about Altaïr being the leader of their forces and now tried to off him in a desperate attempt to stop their advance.

 

Something painful hit his arm with a force that made him stumble and fall down on the ground. He had been so focused on defending Altaïr he had noticed the enemy that had sneaked into his flank.

 

The enemy warrior held a bloody axe in his hand. Then the man swung the axe wildly towards him and Malik managed to roll out of the way just in time to avoid the axe landing into his torso.

 

He jumped on his feet, took out his dagger, and stroke it into the axeman’s neck where he knew the jugular was. The man tried one more wild swing with his axe but missed by a mile. Malik attacked the enemy few more times just to make sure he would be rid of him.

 

As the enemy fell to the snowy and surprisingly bloody ground, though it was hard to see in the darkness only lit by the raging fire around them, Malik felt the world around him spinning. He tried to pick up his bow from the ground but stumbled and fell face first into the snow.

 

The pain radiating from his arm nearly incapacitated him and he tried to look at the damage done but he could hardly move his arm without crying out in pain. He managed to pick himself back on his feet and he felt his arm with his other hand. All that he felt was the terrifying amount of blood gushing from the wound and he was fairly sure the bone was broken.

 

The battle raged on around him but felt weirdly really distant as if heard through a wall. He heard his own heartbeat louder than any clashing of the sword. He knew logically that he should try and stop the bleeding but his right hand was shaking too bad whenever he tried applying pressure.

 

It wasn’t until what seemed like an eternity later he was kneeling in the snow that Altaïr put his hand on his shoulder he realised the battle was over and the dawn was almost upon them. Altaïr was covered in blood even more than normally with his clothes being slick with the stuff.

 

“Did we win?” Malik asked but felt like the words were spoken through someone else’s mouth.

 

“We did,” Altaïr answered and whatever else he might have said went unheard because it was as if somebody had shut out the lights in his head.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every good AltMal story needs to have sex and violence all crammed into single chapter, right? :D


	3. Returning home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are three weeks later and the story concludes. I humbly thank for all the support I have gotten! Special thanks for King Of Novices who is just amazing beyond words and if there is any person who has managed to live under a rock and has not read her amazing stories they should go and do that right now! :D
> 
> Also if anyone is curious I drew fanart for this story which can be found in my Deviantart where I use the username Sunbeamattack
> 
> Beta-read by DarthTofu who is a saint for having the patience to correct my endless mistakes :D

It had taken Altaïr a while to realise something wasn’t as it was supposed to be. He had been busy cutting down his enemies which seemed to be swarming him and had not had much time to observe his surroundings.

 

It wasn’t until he had thrust his sword through the last remaining enemy in front of himself that he had realised Malik had not shot any arrows for quite some time. Malik always had his back so something had to be wrong.

 

The blood made his clothes feel heavy and the air reeked of iron. There was blood on his face which he attempted to wipe off but only managed to smear it further.

 

As he looked around himself he could see countless bodies lying on the ground among which were several of his own. But he wasn’t interested in any of them. His sole focus was on finding Malik.

 

He did then notice someone kneeled on the snow further back. The figure wore a black cloak which he could recognise anywhere.

 

He rushed to Malik’s side who seemed to be in a trance as he didn’t notice Altaïr’s presence at all. Altaïr’s eyes were drawn to Malik’s left arm which had been almost cut through.

 

There was a corpse next to Malik with several stab wounds to his throat and an axe laying in the snow not very far away. It wasn’t hard to piece together what had happened.

 

Altaïr kneeled down in front of Malik and laid his hand on Malik’s shoulder gently but firmly enough to shake him back to reality. It seemed to do the trick as Altaïr could see the life returning to Malik’s glassy eyes which he blinked several times in rapid succession.

 

Malik asked him if they had won and Altaïr wanted to burst into tears but assured Malik they had won. It was as if Malik had been waiting to hear the words from him because he fainted immediately afterwards.

 

Altaïr caught Malik in his arms and for the first time ever he felt desperation. Malik needed help and quickly but he had no idea what to do. Usually he would turn to Malik in matters of healing people but that wasn’t really an option in this case.

 

Malik felt cold to the touch when Altaïr touched his face. It couldn’t have been a good sign and Malik being completely limp definitely wasn’t a good sign.

 

Altaïr tried to shake Malik as he felt helpless in the situation. Malik dying crossed his thoughts but he quickly forced himself to stop thinking about such things. His victory would be nothing if Malik wasn’t there with him. He had lost many people in this battle but Malik couldn’t be one of those losses.

 

He heard the sound of what was undoubtedly his men going around the village looting everything they could. New fires would be started and the civilian population would be scared witless.

 

Rauf and Kadar appeared from somewhere. They both looked to be in relatively good spirits until they noticed he was holding unconscious Malik. Then their faces distorted in an instant to that of worry.

 

“What happened to him?” Rauf asked while gesturing towards Malik.

 

“Somebody almost cut his arm off with an axe,” Altaïr answered.

 

“Is he alive?” Kadar questioned.

 

“Yes but he needs help and we have no other witch here,” Altaïr answered trying to contain his annoyance.

 

“Because he is the witch. By the mother of all, spirits should protect witches,” Rauf said.

 

“He told me the spirits in these lands have been neglected for a long time so maybe that’s why they didn’t protect him,” Altaïr replied but he couldn’t help but think the conversation was entirely pointless.

 

“At least we should get him inside. I don’t think it will do him any good to be out in the cold,” Kadar suggested.

 

“Yes,” he agreed.

 

He made a move to lift Malik up from the ground but being exhausted from fighting and Malik being the same size as him he struggled visibly. He cursed his weak limbs who refused to collaborate in saving the most important person in his life.

 

“I can take him,” Kadar said and moved to relieve him of the burden.

 

Altaïr reluctantly released Malik but Kadar easily hauled him up. To think that Kadar was the little brother was absurd but ultimately he was thankful to be helped with the task.

 

They made it inside a nearby house which on a closer inspection was Vapahtaja’s temple. It didn’t matter because all that mattered was that there were enough candles to light up the entire house and that it was warm.

 

Altaïr could now see in the light just how much blood had come out of Malik as Kadar gently laid him on the altar table. The sight of blood on Malik suddenly made him feel sick and he looked at his companions who were covered in blood and glanced down on his own clothes but none of those sights made him nauseated. It was because it was Malik’s blood.

 

The thought that Malik might die resurfaced again but this time it refused to go away no matter how hard he tried. He poked at the gaping gash in Malik’s arm and was surprised the arm was still attached at all.

 

Malik was breathing quietly and looked oddly ashen pale. The interval between breaths was a long one and he didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. He pulled Malik’s cloak so that it covered the man almost entirely.

 

“If he dies it will be bad for the morale,” Kadar said while leaning against one of the roof supports and fiddled with something.

 

“Fuck the morale! Is that all you care about?” Altaïr finally snapped.

 

Kadar didn’t answer him. A silence stretched between all of them.

 

“I’ll go and see if I can find anyone who knows anything about healing,” Rauf said and gestured towards the door.

 

“Good idea,” Kadar agreed and two of them headed out.

 

It was clear that they wanted to get out of the oppressive mood that emanated from Altaïr but he just couldn’t make himself care.

 

He wiped his hands clean on a piece of cloth he found. Then he ran his hand through the furs in Malik’s cloak feeling the form beneath as he went along. It brought him some comfort but not a lot.

 

A door opened and he thought it was one of his men or maybe even Rauf who had come back but it wasn’t. What came through was a man wearing Vapahtaja’s temple lord’s clothing except his head was uncovered.

 

The man was carrying a lantern which he dropped on the ground as he noticed Altaïr on the back of the temple. The man had blonde hair which reached his shoulders and had the messy beginnings of a beard. He didn’t seem to be carrying any weapons so Altaïr just ignored him and continued petting Malik.

 

“I didn’t know there was anyone here at this hour,” the man said with an accented voice.

 

“You speak my language?” he asked just to humour the man for a bit.

 

“I do. I find other cultures and languages fascinating,” the man said and walked towards him.

 

“Save your preachings. Do you know who I am?” Altaïr warned.

 

“I do know who you are, Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad, and your friend must be the one they call the evil witch Malik. I am Leonardo. Nice to meet you,” the man said and extended his hand.

 

What a weird temple lord, he thought as he eyed the man critically. He didn’t know what it was about the man or maybe it was just the stressful situation he was in but he found himself grabbing the man’s hand. Before he shaking hands Altaïr asked, “You do know what I do to Vapahtaja’s men?”

 

Leonardo just smiled at him and shook his hand.

 

“The tales have reached my ears, yes,” Leonardo answered.

 

“Then why aren’t you cowering in fear like the rest of them?” he asked as he had never seen a reaction like this.

 

“I am more interested in the truth than lingering onto my Earthly form. If I die in the process of finding it then so be it,” Leonardo answered and moved past Altaïr with his eyes nailed to Malik.

 

Leonardo drew away Malik’s cloak with a swift move and grimaced as he saw the damage in his arm. Altaïr stared at him like a hawk in case he wanted to harm Malik.

 

“He needs medical attention or he will die,” Leonardo said without raising his gaze.

 

“We don’t have another witch,” Altaïr replied and crossed his arms.

 

“I can help him if you allow me to,” Leonardo said while examining Malik’s arm.

 

“Why would you do that? We are your enemies,” Altaïr questioned though a part of him was hopeful he had found an answer to his troubles.

 

“Are we truly? We are having a perfectly civilised conversation right now,” Leonardo answered and set Malik’s arm back on the table.

 

“I’ve killed many of your kin. I’ve sacked every temple on my way except for this one,” he replied.

 

“I have no personal qualms with you. I seek the truth just as Vapahtaja did when he walked this Earth. I see someone they call a witch right before me who is about to die and his desperate lover who scorched his way all the way from the East for a couple of trees. This is more interesting than anything I’ve heard in ages,” Leonardo responded.

 

Altaïr didn’t trust the man completely but he didn’t have much choice in the matter because as much as he tried to deny the truth Malik would probably die without help. He didn’t know what he would do without Malik.

 

“Then help him, but if you try something funny I will snap your spine in half,” he said after he had considered Leonardo’s words for a while.

 

As soon as he had ended his sentence Leonardo jumped into action. He started removing Malik’s clothing layer by layer with a clear purpose in his mind.

 

“I need boiling water and clean rags. Remove the rest of his clothing. I will be back in a bit,” Leonardo ordered him and as much as it grated in his nerves to take commands from someone he obeyed.

 

Leonardo disappeared outside in a hurry, leaving Altaïr take off rest of Malik’s clothes. Malik wore several layers of linen and wool like everyone did in the winter so the task took a while. When he got to the point of the last remaining layers which were also the ones to go over his arms he started to struggle as the cloth stuck to the blood. He didn’t want to disturb the horrible gash more in the fear it might start bleeding again.

 

Leonardo appeared back to the temple with all kinds of equipment with him which he set on the table and some he set on the floor.

 

“I need to clean this so I can examine the damage better. Could you hold the pot of water for me?” Leonardo said and motioned to the pot in the floor.

 

Altaïr did as he was asked. Steam rose from the obviously boiling water in the pot and he could feel the warmth spreading through his fingers towards his arms as he held it.

 

Leonardo cleaned all the residue blood and the gash itself with the boiling water while making faces at the same time. The rags were quickly red from blood.

 

“His arm is gone,” Leonardo said while rotating Malik’s arm in a careful manner.

 

“What do you mean _gone_?” he asked venomously if Leonardo thought he could just cut Malik’s arm off he had another think coming.

 

“There’s so little flesh connecting the two parts that there’s practically no circulation. The lower part has already greyed from lack of blood,” Leonardo explained and it was true that there was significant difference in colour.

 

“So can’t you just fix it?” he asked.

 

“No. I’m sorry but if the lower part isn’t cut off he will probably die of sepsis,” Leonardo said apologetically.

 

“Sepsis?” he asked as he didn’t understand the term.

 

“I think your people call it blood poisoning,” Leonardo replied and that Altaïr could understand.

 

“Then I suppose there is no other way. I rather have him with one arm than dead,” he responded.

 

Leonardo nodded and reached for a small blade he had brought with him.

 

“Hold him down. There’s a high chance he will wake up when I cut through the remaining flesh,” Leonardo said while outstretching the arm.

 

Altaïr leaned over Malik and placed himself so that he could keep him down. He braced himself against what was going to happen but he had not expected the horrible scream and thrashing that was about to take place.

 

Malik’s eyes shot wide open but didn’t focus on anything and he broke into sweat despite of not having his shirts on. Altaïr had to fight to keep him down and it hurt his heart to hear Malik’s agonised cries.

 

In the end Malik lost consciousness once more but his breath remained ragged. Altaïr felt bad about what had happened and as he looked at the unattached arm on the table he remembered how he had torn the Veiled Lord’s arms off.

 

Leonardo hurried to pour clear liquid over the stump of an arm. It smelled like spirits and he wondered for a short time as to how a person who believed all the spirits were evil had come to possession of spirits.

 

Then Leonardo sewed what remaining skin there was to the flesh and wrapped everything up. There was much less blood than Altaïr had expected which just confirmed what Leonardo had said about the blood circulation. He didn’t really care all that much as long as it saved Malik’s life.

 

He would even build a temple for Vapahtaja back home if Malik just made it. He would be ready to change his mind about this particular God and its worshippers.

 

“You can come to my house with him. This isn’t really a good place for someone to recover from such a trauma,” Leonardo offered.

 

“You would offer your own home for us?” he asked in surprise as he was wrapping Malik in the cloak.

 

“As any good man would. Come with me. It’s right next door,” Leonardo said with a smile.

 

Altaïr was not about to refuse the offer. He found new strength in himself to gather Malik up and Leonardo helped him with the burden.

 

Outside it was still dark but he could see a faint light in the horizon – From the east and more than that from the direction of his home. At that moment he had had enough of raiding and wanted to return back home.

 

There was no more glory to be had from continuing the journey as he instinctively knew Malik was probably done following him into new adventures. He squeezed Malik tighter against himself as his chest felt suddenly somehow constricted.

 

Leonardo’s home was a warm place but very different from the houses they had back in home. It was clear only one person lived in it but it still had several rooms whereas at home the houses had only one room which just varied in size depending on the house’s size. It was reasonably sized house and he couldn’t help but think that the walls separating the rooms made it smaller than it was for no reason at all.

 

Leonardo pointed him towards one of the rooms which had a bed in it. He laid Malik on the bed and made sure to cover him properly.

 

“You should probably get some rest as well,” Leonardo suggested and while Altaïr wanted to protest his body seemed to agree with him.

 

As he sat down on the floor which had instead of straw a thick cloth covering it he fell asleep almost immediately. It just felt too nice and warm to stay awake.

 

*********************

 

When he woke up Malik was still sleeping which disappointed him on some level. He had hoped he would wake up and find Malik walking around complaining how he didn’t like to sleep in the long house as he usually did.

 

But Malik slept in what seemed like almost deathly sleep. Altaïr felt his cheek with his hand and noticed that Malik was much warmer than he had been in the night.

 

He didn’t want to leave Malik alone with a possible enemy but he had to check on his men. So he left the house which seemed to be devoid of Leonardo or anyone else for that matter.

 

It didn’t take too long for him to find Rauf and Kadar. They reported to him that they had lost almost half of their men in the fight and the rest were tired. The village was so enormous they couldn’t possibly kill off all the resistance in it.

 

He told the two of them to tell the men they would stay for some time in Kaupunki. Then they would return back home after everyone had rested well.

 

The two asked after Malik’s condition but he didn’t want to elaborate on the situation more than he had it under control. He didn’t want to spread panic or false hope among the men.

 

He returned to Leonardo’s home where he found Leonardo cooking something in a pot. It smelled delicious and nothing like the stuff Malik cooked in his pots back at home.

 

“He has broken into fever. I didn’t expect it to happen so fast but this is the point where he’ll either makes it or not,” Leonardo commented over the pot.

 

Altaïr hurried to where Malik lied and noticed all the extra coverings on him. He touched softly Malik’s cheek and sure enough he was burning like an ember.

 

Later that day Leonardo appeared in to the room where they stayed and sat down on the floor with Altaïr. Leonardo wore a smile which seemed to be part of the man’s normal expression – kind of like Malik’s permanent frown but in reverse.

 

“He is your lover, right? Nobody has the kinds of expressions as you have other than people in love,” Leonardo queried.

 

“He is more than that. He is my bloodbrother,” Altaïr answered.

 

“What does that mean? I have never heard this term,” Leonardo asked.

 

“We made a sacred pledge in blood to each other which can’t be ever be broken. He is my true equal and I am his. We share a bond deeper than that of kin as our spirits are one,” Altaïr replied and Leonardo looked intrigued by his answer.

 

“That is fascinating. We have nothing like that in here and love between men is considered to be harmful. People consider only the love between men and women to be allowed since the end result from that are children. I can see the logic in that but...” Leonardo trailed off.

 

“But you don’t believe in that,” Altaïr suggested and Leonardo nodded.

 

“There was a man that was Vapahtaja’s temple lord who had made his way to my village last winter. He said laying with men is wrong and that Malik should be killed for being a witch. He burned down our sacred burial ground and Malik’s home,” Altaïr commented.

 

“Even in this place there are two kinds of Truth Seekers. One and the most popular one is the one who thinks Vapahtaja is literally a god and the other one thinks he was a man in life who sought out the truth until he found enlightenment. The first school of thought is more interested in what Vapahtaja said about things rather than actually following his philosophy,” Leonardo explained.

 

“Philosophy?” Altaïr queried.

 

Leonardo chuckled and mumbled something in his own language before answering, “The thoughts and ideas Vapahtaja had. He said we should always keep an open mind for new things instead of clinging to the past but what his worshippers say is that we should take literally every observation he made of the world.”

 

“What does that have to do with anything?” Altaïr asked.

 

“The temple lord who made it into your village may have called himself a Truth Seeker but he only wanted to impose his own values upon you without actually looking for the truth behind things. The truth is hardly ever black and white. Things aren’t just good and evil. It all depends on the context and a wise man tries to see through his prejudices,” Leonardo answered.

 

Altaïr felt a realisation strike him. He glanced quickly at Malik and then back into Leonardo.

 

“Malik always says spirits aren’t good or evil, that they just are and want to go about their business. That humans disturb them with their presence no matter what and it’s our job to make sure we make it up to them,” Altaïr replied as he felt like suddenly Vapahtaja’s ideologies didn’t seem so far away from their own.

 

“Then your bloodbrother is a very wise man. Definitely worth being called the Sage from the East,” Leonardo commented.

 

“Sage from the east?” he asked because he had never heard him being called that.

 

“While the believers in Vapahtaja might try to pretend they are the only religion around here the truth is that there’s plenty of people who still believe in the old spirits but never have seen a witch in their lives. For them your coming has been something of a blessing,” Leonardo replied.

 

It was a shocking statement to Altaïr because he had thought he was fighting the Truth Seekers all along but it seemed some of their brethren may have been caught in the crossfire. The thought had not even crossed his mind.

 

“And you are fine with that? You aren’t bothered there are _pagans_ among you as the temple lord put it?” he questioned with disbelief.

 

“No. Not even one bit. I am interested in the truth and making people accept my beliefs isn’t part of that. You can seek the truth and still believe in your old gods and spirits or not believe in any supernatural things whatsoever. It shouldn’t be an issue,” Leonardo explained calmly.

 

Altaïr considered Leonardo’s words for a long while in silence. The man was completely different from the Veiled Lord who just wanted to impose himself on his people. Leonardo accepted people with different beliefs and didn’t mind housing a witch and a renown war chieftain in his house.

 

Leonardo interrupted his musings, “But please do tell me what kind of person can make a chieftain of your calibre fall in love with him so madly as you clearly are. It’s not every day I come across something like this and I need to know. For my research into the truth of course,” Leonardo quipped and winked.

 

Altaïr sighed as he racked his brain for the answer. Describing Malik was no easy task.

 

“He is grumpy all the time and angry at everyone. He calls people simpletons but I think he is just concerned about everyone but doesn’t want to admit to having feelings. He likes animals and children even if he’ll deny it if you ask him. He is smart but stubborn at the same time. He sings like no other man I have ever heard and is definitely the best guqin player in the village. But he can fight and I can always trust him to have my back as he is the most loyal person I have ever met. He nags at almost all of my decisions but because it’s him I don’t mind,” Altaïr concluded though he felt like he had missed several things from his description.

 

“So he’s a warrior and a witch. No wonder I haven’t found anything for myself,” Leonardo commented with a good humour.

 

“Yeah and I’m sure he will be so pissed off at me when he wakes up and realises he has no arm,” he joked half-heartedly.

 

**********************

 

Malik did in fact wake up the next day and the noises he made when he realised he missed an arm were not from this world. Altaïr was sure the people outside thought they had summoned a wind spirit or at least unleashed some other worldly beast in the house.

 

He tried explaining how it had to be done but Malik was having none of it. He knew Malik would react like this and Altaïr was glad Malik was alive but he couldn’t help but feel a small heartbreak when he saw Malik’s expression which was full of self-loathing.

 

It did take several days for Malik to calm down from his hysteria. One of the first things he said to Altaïr was, “I can’t play guqin any longer.”

 

“No, but you can still sing and more than that you are still with me and that’s the important thing,” he replied.

 

It seemed like a spirit had pulled Malik back to him as he saw Malik’s gaze soften and focus properly on him.

 

“Yeah,” Malik said and Altaïr pulled him into an embrace.

 

Malik felt like a fragile thing in his arms and it was a weird sensation as he was used to Malik being able to protect himself just fine. It was like their equilibrium had been tipped slightly and they were off balance. He didn’t mind though since he was just glad that Malik had made it. The balance would be recovered in time he was sure.

 

When they eventually would go home he would built a temple for Vapahtaja where the believers in his people could go and seek the truth. If more people were like Leonardo the world would be so much better place to live in.

 

*************************

 

Leonardo and Malik hit it off almost immediately after Malik had accepted that Leonardo wouldn’t want to attack their spirits. Leonardo would ask Malik all kinds of things about witches and spirits that Altaïr could never even dream of answering.

 

Malik amassed as much knowledge from Leonardo as he could and Altaïr was overjoyed to see the life return into Malik’s eyes. He was thankful he had run into Leonardo that night.

 

He went outside more and spoke with his men. His victory over the people of Kaupunki was hailed as their greatest achievement but what was surprising was that not all the people who came to congratulate him were his own.

 

The people who worshipped the spirits instead of Vapahtaja in the village were overjoyed for having the opportunity to practice their arts openly. They wanted to meet Malik who they hailed as the ‘Sage from the East’ just as Leonardo had said.

 

The snow covered the blood underneath very quickly and it felt almost as if there had not been any large battle. Kaupunki was such a big village it was easy to walk among the buildings and forget that they had burned several of its houses along with its walls.

 

And as the days went on Altaïr started to feel restless. He wanted to go back home with his spoils and return back into the ordinary life where he was not the leader of an army or a liberator but the chieftain of his village. He wanted to shout at Malik’s dog who barked constantly in the middle of a night if somebody dared to walk across the village to relieve themselves and he wanted to go swimming in the bay with Malik.

 

************************

 

As the day came when they were just about to leave Malik sang to the people. There was no guqin to keep rhythm for his singing but there was no need. The expression of the villagers who had never met a witch nor an authentic spell singer was something to behold.

 

Malik wore his black fox cloak closely around himself to hide the remains of his left arm but it gave him a mysterious image which he was sure would be burned into the minds of the people for ages. His voice betrayed no hint of anything having changed about him which was a relief to Altaïr.

 

Malik sang tales of the old heroes and spells to protect the people. Spells to raise the spirits of the village were also sang and when he did so a few people burst into tears among the crowd who had gathered to watch and listen.

 

Leonardo seemed to be fascinated by the display the same as everyone else which just cemented the idea he needed to build a temple to the village. He would dedicate it to Leonardo.

 

“I had heard the spell singers were different but I didn’t expect the rhythm and the lyrics being so vastly different from what I’m used to. Goes to just show how much there is to learn about the world,” Leonardo commented as Malik had started to sing about the warrior sage who had given their people the guqin.

 

“I have my gates open, my doors unlocked, and pots of food warm for you if you ever happen to stumble upon my village,” Altaïr replied as a farewell since he knew they would leave soon.

 

“Maybe I’ll make a pilgrimage to the east. Bring forward a different kind of Truth Seeking than what your people experienced,” Leonardo responded and Altaïr chuckled.

 

*************************

 

Then they left Kaupunki behind. Malik travelled on top one of the sleighs despite insisting he would ski like the rest of them but Altaïr had all but dragged him to a sleigh and thrown in there. It was clear Malik was not yet in condition to ski as his arm had not yet fully healed but Malik was stubborn as usual.

 

The men, while excited to bring home spoils they had never even imagined being able to amass, were clearly happy to return home. Everyone, not just Altaïr, was tired of fighting. The spring would be soon upon them and they would have to tend to the fields.

 

Altaïr was sure there would be countless stories told of their glorious victories but probably also of their losses. They had thinned considerably in number from those who had left in the autumn towards the west.

 

Even he had been close to losing something dear to him.

 

The snows melted early that year and the last leg of their journey home had to be made by foot or in horseback. They had several horses pillaged from villages on their way and used them as pack animals and for pulling the pillaged carts.

 

Malik was strong enough to ride a horse and refused to ride on a cart. He made his mind so clear to Altaïr that his ears were red even after hours of the lecture but on the other hand it also meant that Malik was strong enough to fight back properly. Despite being lectured not being terribly enjoyable he was happy to have Malik riding at his side just as tall as he was.

 

When they started to get near to their village the crowd thinned even more as people left on their own routes to their own villages. They naturally took some of the spoils with them but there was plenty to go around and everyone who had participated in their guest had earned himself a share.

 

Finally they reached the village. Altaïr could see the great spruce from a very faraway and the giant eagle landed on top if it as if to welcome them back home. It felt good to be home after such a long and hard travel.

 

The village folk rushed to greet them and unlike the year before they were welcomed with enthusiasm. People asked them questions left and right about their travels. A few people eyed Malik’s missing arm but didn’t ask about it.

 

They promised they would give a proper account of what had happened later on in the long house. Altaïr was hailed as the great chieftain and he couldn’t help but feel a bit vain about the compliments that were rained on him.

 

***********************

 

Later on that summer that he was sitting at the pier with Malik watching across the bay and he had his arm wrapped around Malik’s waist. They had washed themselves in the lake before and were trying to dry up in the scorching heat of the hay season.

 

He tried to make out the village across the bay but he wasn’t sure if he could actually see it or if he was just imagining seeing it. Kadar had been apparently hailed almost as much in return as he had been but only almost. He had not heard any songs of Kadar’s success unlike of his own.

 

“Remember when I swam across the bay?” Altaïr asked when a thought entered his mind.

 

He had built the temple for Vapahtaja in their village and even though he quite rarely attended it the third of his people who were followers were ecstatic. He had come to realise he probably shouldn’t fight the change in people and just try coexist with them.

 

“I do. I sat at the pier when you pulled that stupid stunt and I feared you might drown,” Malik answered.

 

“People kept telling me I would achieve great things because I did things beyond my age as a child. For the longest time I believed it was true,” Altaïr said.

 

“And? You are telling me you don’t think you have achieved great things? You raided and pillaged all the way from here to Kaupunki,” Malik questioned him.

 

“No I’m not saying that but just I realised I didn’t achieve it alone. I couldn’t have attacked any of the villages without people volunteering to back me up and more than that I couldn’t have done it without you,” Altaïr responded.

 

Malik burst into laughter and Altaïr was utterly confused.

 

“Altaïr the great war chieftain and a philosopher,” Malik jested.

 

“Philosopher? You picked that word up from Leonardo,” Altaïr replied in annoyance.

 

“Let’s go back oh wise one,” Malik quipped and made to get up.

 

Altaïr followed him and they made through the village like they had done several times before in the past. A goat had climbed on top of a house and was eating the grass growing on the peat. Things were as they always were.

 

It wasn’t until they made it back to Malik’s hut, where the ground was still somewhat blackened by the ash but already growing flowers here and there, that things weren’t back to way they were supposed to be. Malik had been trying to find another place for a burial ground and spent sometimes days on his trips around the surrounding area but so far it had been a fruitless endeavour.

 

He was just about to step into the house when Malik pulled him from his sleeve. He stopped in his tracks to see what had made Malik act in a such a way.

 

“Look!” Malik exclaimed while pointing towards the lake.

 

It took Altaïr a while to understand what Malik was pointing at before he realised what he was looking at. His heart skipped a beat when he realised it was a bird cherry sapling which had one single white flowering sticking out of it.

 

The bird cherries were back and so the equilibrium was back in balance.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might write a companion story for this about how Altair stole himself a witch, so maybe this is not quite the end for this AU. Anyways thank you for reading and I love to hear how it was?
> 
> For further reading on the subject look up Kirmukarmu, Kalevala, and Kantele(Malik's actual instrument in the story) which heavily inspired me to write this story.
> 
> Thank you so much for hanging around to read this :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Comments?
> 
> I will see you people in a week with the next part of this story :)


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